"Hey!" shouted Jake in a tone unlike his usual good humor. The big bearded man did not respond. "You -- the one with the sword -- I don't know how you got that thing in here, but we don't allow weapons in here. House rules."
Mason Templar grunted and bent down to grip the hilt of his sword.
"Don't even try it, pal," Jake said. Chewy the bouncer was behind him in an instant, grinding his tusks in a menacing way and looking imposingly large as usual.
Templar cleared his voice. "I was merely removing my sword, sir innkeeper. I trust you will allow to do to as much before your goon has a go at me? I'd prefer not to muss your floor with his blood."
Chewy growled menacingly and frowned with his huge brow at the man.
Templar met his gaze with one just as menacing and rose from his seat. The regular patrons of the bar all stepped back and clutched their drinks to themselves. It looked like a showdown was imminent.
"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" Templar finally laughed. "Good! Very good! You do take things very seriously here, I see. Very well, then. I grant you my sword for the nonce."
Templar unbuckled his scabbard and held it before him. The bouncer moved forward to grab it, when Templar said, "Hold! A moment, my good... er... 'man'..." He pulled the sword from the scabbard a mere one inch out for a moment, then pushed it back in. "It appears, sir innkeeper, that your henchman here is not as menacing as he appears as Caliburn neglected to glow green -- it seems to have believed me in absolutely no true danger here."
Mason Templar laughed heartily and finally handed his sword to the gruff Chewy and sat back down at his table, where he nursed his drink. It was untouched. All he wanted was the use of a quiet table with which to think, and to wait out the time until Vanguard had a mission. Holidays were a time for friends and allies, and Mason Templar was but a stranger to the Vanguardians despite his own recent addition to the team.
